Hide the Flowers
by Bonomania
Summary: House/Wilson and a little bit of Foreman and Taub. They thought nobody knew about them, but perhaps they're not as good at hiding as they thought.


**A/N: I'd tell you the prompt my friend gave me, but it'll ruin it. Prompt credit goes to my wonderful friend, jelly-tots. Enjoy.**

**  
Hide the Flowers**

"When you said we were going for lunch, I assumed you meant somewhere with actual _food_." House said, reluctantly getting out of the car. The place was desolate; no one around, just the soft whir of the city lingering in the background.

Wilson opened the car boot, pulling out a wicker basket. "The food," he said, holding it up, "and a blanket." With one hand, he whips the tartan blanket out to the side, unravelling it.

"A picnic? Are you sure you don't have a vagina?"

Wilson rolled his eyes.

"I think you would've noticed by now."

House watched as Wilson strode across the vast field of green, dragging the corner of the blanket along the grass in a very Linus-like fashion. House followed on, only spurred on by his curiosity for what was in the picnic basket.

Wilson laid the blanket down on the grass and sat down. He patted the spot beside him on the blanket, signalling for House to join him, but only earned himself a glare. House had certainly perfected his impression of a petulant child.

"Come on, House. We've got forty-five minutes left of lunch, can't we just make the most of it? It's hard enough restraining myself at work, at least here we're alone so we can be ourselves."

House's mouth drew into a thin line. Still standing, he scrutinized the picnic basket and said, "What kind of goodies you got in that box?"

"Uh…" Wilson began pulling a number of different Tupperware boxes from the basket, mumbling their contents as he did so.

"Chicken salad."

"_Salad_?" House said, turning up his nose.

Wilson ignored him.

"Potato salad. Egg salad sandwiches."

"Anything without the word _salad_ in it?" House cut in.

"And…a reuben." Wilson smirked, seeing the disgust drop from House's face. House made a grab for the sandwich, but Wilson was too quick and hid it behind his back.

"Uh-uh, you have to sit down first."

"Oh come off it, Wilson, you sound like my mother."

"Like you even remember what she sounds like," Wilson retorted before casually adding, "When was the last time you saw her again?"

"Ok, fine!" House carefully dropped to the floor, manoeuvring himself so his right leg was stretched out in front of him. Chuckling to himself, Wilson holds out the reuben only to have it snatched out of his hand.

Wilson opened his salad and they ate, listening to the birds and the wind rushing through the surrounding trees, a comfortable silence between them.

*

Propping himself up on his elbows, House figured he'd use the last few minutes of their lunch to soak up the sun. Opening his eyes, he saw Wilson sat with his back to him.

"What are you doing?" House watched Wilson fiddling with something in his lap, "You know, I could help you with that," he said, suggestively, shuffling over to him. Peering over Wilson's shoulder, House let out an involuntary snort.

"There wasn't a box labelled _Wilson's testicles_ in that basket, was there?"

Wilson ignored him, brow furrowed in concentration.

"There." Wilson held up his creation, smiling with pride.

"You made a daisy chain. I thought you girls grew out of that in fourth grade."

"Give me your hand."

"What – why?"

Wilson breathed an exasperated sigh before taking hold of House's hand and tying the two ends together around his wrist.

"For God's sake," House whined, shaking his head at a madly grinning Wilson, "you're more of a woman than all of your ex-wives put together. And that's saying something; Bonnie was a babe – a bitch, but a babe." House moved to tear the flower bracelet from his wrist, but was stopped by Wilson's swatting his hand away.

"Leave it on." The lust in Wilson's deep-brown eyes was enough to melt him. He hooked the daisy chain under his finger, poised to pull it apart. Teasing it with his thumb, his heart quickened at the look hunger on Wilson's face.

"Convince me."

Wilson moved forwards, pushing House's shoulders down onto the blanket. House smirked, noticing the identical daisy bracelet Wilson's own wrist was sporting proudly. One hand on his chest, Wilson threw his leg over House's body, straddling him. Taking House's hands in his own, fingers entwining, he pinned them above House's head before taking him by the mouth. Their lips crashed together almost violently. Both closed their eyes, momentarily losing themselves in each other's touch. As their _need_ for one another was quenched, the kiss softened. Wilson nipped gently at House's lips, moving down to the nape of his neck. So wrapped up in the moment, Wilson shifted his body closer to House's so their torsos were all but touching – the thrill of it taking him over, almost like a buzzing…

…Until his crotch apparently started ringing.

House groaned in frustration as Wilson unpinned his hands and started thrashing around in his pockets for his phone. He shot House an apologetic smile before flipping the phone open.

"Hello," he said, still flustered. He signalled to House that it was his assistant, earning himself an exaggerated eye roll. "What can I do for y – wait, what time did you –" Wilson glanced at his watch, letting out a gasp when he saw the time. "W-we're…I'm stuck in traffic, I'll be there soon. Tell them I'm sorry, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Flipping the phone shut, he leaned down, resting his head on House's chest. House was still panting slightly as Wilson murmured into his shirt, "We have to go, lunch finished ten minutes ago." For a moment, they just sat there; House catching his breath, Wilson psyching himself up for going back to work.

"I'm _so_ late." Even knowing this, Wilson still didn't move. "Right," he said, lifting his upper half so he was effectively sitting in House's lap, "come on, we'd better get going." He ran his hand through his flop of brown hair, patting it down.

"Mind getting off me?"

"Oh, sorry," Wilson said abashedly.

Wilson haphazardly packed everything back into the basket, House looking on in amusement.

Back at the car, Wilson emptied his hands, closed the boot and got in the driver's seat. House was flicking through the radio stations, grumbling that the only CD Wilson had in the car was Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits.

Mid-journey, House piped up.

"I'm taking this off when we get to the hospital," he said grouchily.

"You look pretty."

"I'm _definitely_ taking this off when we get to the hospital." But, without warning, House's cheeks were flushing and however much he tried to stop it, he couldn't keep his lips from curling into a smile. Thankfully, Wilson's eyes were on the road.

*

In his office, House was sitting on his recliner waiting for five o'clock in the vague hope he and Wilson might get to finish what they started at lunch. He was pretty sure Wilson was doing the same, the only difference being that Wilson actually had patients to distract him.

He jumped when Foreman strode into his office. "Patient coming in from Princeton General," he barked, holding out the file.

Leaning forward on the recliner, House foolishly stretched out to grab the file – his sleeve riding up to reveal a flash of white and yellow. Foreman raised his eyebrow, giving him a look that said _I'm not leaving without an explanation. _House snatched the file, tugging down his sleeve. When Foreman failed to wipe the smug, _I'm judging you_ smirk off his face, House shot him an irritated glare. Foreman was unmoved. House sighed; he'd forgotten Foreman was the one with a backbone.

"One of Wilson's balding cancer kids thought it'd be fun to give the grumpy man a present." Foreman scoffed, but before he could ask why House was still wearing the thing, House continued, "Wilson's bet me $50 I can't keep it on for the day. That's an hour of spanking from a hooker. I think it's Candy tonight…or is it Crystal?"

Foreman's face crinkled into a bored frown. "I'll page the others," he said before walking through into the differential room.

*

A short time later, Foreman found himself in Wilson's office asking for a consult.

"We think it's cancer. Possible mesothelioma."

Wilson chewed his lip, scanning the file. "Do you want me to do the biopsy?"

"If you don't mind – just to be sure."

Wilson was making a grab for his lab coat when Foreman spotted it.

"Dr Wilson, what's that?"

Poking out from under the cuffs of his shirt were daisy petals.

"I-I-uh-a kid…I went for a walk at lunch and this little girl gave it to me. I promised her I'd keep it on. Cute kid."

Wilson was lying; Foreman could see it. From the _deer-in-the-headlights_ expression on his face to his rosy cheeks, Wilson was oozing unease.

_He's definitely lying._ Foreman's jaw all but dropped to the floor when he put two and two together.

*

"There's something going on with House and Wilson."

"There's always something going on with them. House is an ass, Wilson gets upset, they make up and the cycle starts again," Taub countered.

"I _mean_ there's something going on between them."

"What? You mean..._going_ _on_-going on?" Taub gave him an incredulous look. "You've been spending too much time with Thirteen."

"House is wearing a _daisy chain bracelet._"

"So? He's probably just screwing with –"

"Wilson's wearing one too."

Taub thought for a moment, coming up with possible explanations in his head. His eyes suddenly widened and he looked up at Foreman, mouth agape.

Foreman spoke a low, drawn-out, "What?"

"Come to think of it, where were they both at lunch? Neither of them was in the cafeteria."

"I knew it," was all Foreman could say. He had his doubts, but hearing Taub come to the same conclusion as him pretty much sealed the deal.

"So, what do we do?" Taub asked, looking a little pale.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do we tell them we know, or do we pretend we _don't_ know they're doing each other."

Foreman scoffed at Taub's brazen words. "Look, if we tell them we know, House will be uncomfortable and take it out on us. If we _don't_ tell, we get to keep our dignity and _House_," Foreman said, crossing his fingers, "won't be so miserable all the damn time."

"Do we tell the others?"

"Not unless you want it all over the hospital by tomorrow morning." Something glimmered in Foreman's eyes and he threw his head back to the ceiling, laughing under his breath. "Damn, Cameron was right. Well, half right."

"About what?"

"She said House would _do_ Wilson. Technically she said he'd do Wilson before she did Chase, but _damn_."

*

At 4.54pm, Wilson entered House's office, coat in hand.

"Ready to go?" House nodded back, grabbing his cane and rucksack.

In the other room, Taub nudged Foreman, nodding towards House's office. They watched as House and Wilson's hands both went for his jacket. They watched as Wilson let his hand linger over House's. They watched as the two shared a mischievous grin.

"Let's get out of here," House said deeply, his voice hushed.

House ripped his jacket from the back of the chair, and headed out the door.

"Where are you going? We've still got a patient," Foreman shouted, getting up and running into the corridor.

"Start her on chemo," House yelled back, neither him nor Wilson stopping until they reached the elevator. "I'm going home to finish my lunch."

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_Allusions: by Linus, I meant Charlie Brown's friend...the one with the security blanket. Heh, I actually managed to get the name of the House_wilson LJ community in there, 'grabbing his cane.' Good times. _


End file.
